


Eight to One

by stalepearl



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Clothed Sex, DINLUKE, Din Djarin - Freeform, Frottage, Helmetless Din Djarin, Luke Skywalker - Freeform, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Planet Yavin 4 (Star Wars), all soft no pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29752719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stalepearl/pseuds/stalepearl
Summary: Din can’t stand the way Luke gazes down at him because it makes him feel as though he were nude. In comparison to his usual attire, he basically was. He wants to kiss Luke; make him close his eyes so he can’t look anymore, make him turn away with embarrassment.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 11
Kudos: 181





	Eight to One

**Author's Note:**

> hi! here’s my first contribution to the lovely dinluke community.   
> a little bit of “oh god, i don’t know what i’m doing” din combined with “i just like being around you :)” luke never hurt anybody.   
> if you ever wanna chat or see some art of pedro pascal, check out my tumblr @/ghostlygarage!

The humidity is killing Din. 

A bead of sweat rolls down his brow as he wipes it away with haste. His shirt sticks to his chest and his back uncomfortably, and if he didn’t already feel so exposed, he would tear it from his skin. Heat burns in his chest and throat as he draws in deep, ragged breaths. 

The desaturated tone of ancient rock under his feet looks cool, inviting him to lay face-down on it to release some heat. The beskar staff from his hand clangs against the stone after Din drops it, plopping down. Resting back on his hands, he tips his head back and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“I forfeit,” Din pants. He hears Luke’s staff clatter against the ground without a response. Other than the distant buzz of chirping animals, the courtyard is silent. A hand tugs Din’s shoulder as Luke takes a seat next to him, sighing as he settles. The Mandalorian cocks an eye open to peek at Luke, who’s smiling to himself triumphantly. He opens his mouth to speak, but Din cuts him off with, “Don’t say it.” 

Ignoring him, Luke laughs aloud. “Eight to one.” Din slaps the back of his hand against Luke’s arm in mock offense. 

“You’re exaggerating,” Din insists in amusement. He lowers himself onto his elbows, and then flat onto his back. A knee draws up as he folds his hands over his chest with a deep exhale through his nose. 

“Admit it,” Luke begins cockily. “I’m just way better than you.”

“You’re a Jedi,” the Mandalorian defends. 

Luke hums a laugh and moves his hand above Din’s shoulder, leaning into it. The Jedi’s face fills his vision, and the sky is a gorgeous blue behind his blond locks. A few voluptuous clouds blotch the atmosphere, and the sun beams down warmly on the two of them. Luke’s figure is lined with white light and suddenly Din’s chest swells with a familiar adoration for him. 

“Yeah, magic hands, I get it,” Luke grins, shaking a raised hand at him. The hand lowers to Din’s stomach and ever so slightly squeezes, and Luke dips down to kiss him sweetly. It only lasts a few moments, but Din breathes him in as much as he can before it’s over. 

The hand absentmindedly circles and kneads against his abdomen, stirring a bubbling warmth in Din’s belly. He wants to tell Luke how beautiful he is, take his face into his hands and kiss him until his lips are sore, but he has no words. Affection like that has never come easy to Din because he never really had the chance to show it. A life behind armor doesn’t allow for thoughtless touches or innocent embraces. He knows he’s a stiff man, and without his helmet, even stiffer, but Luke’s all-knowing eyes somehow always understand him.

Din can’t stand the way Luke gazes down at him because it makes him feel as though he were nude. In comparison to his usual attire, he basically was. He wants to kiss Luke; make him close his eyes so he can’t look anymore, make him turn away with embarrassment. 

“What are you thinking?” Din blurts, internally begging for an answer. 

“Well…” Luke trails off. His eyes go from Din’s face to the exploring hand. “I’m thinking about the Temple, the students… You.” 

His heart skips a beat in his chest. Din masks his nervous feelings as amusement, muttering a hardly casual, “Me?” 

Luke nods and hums. The circle pattern his hand was drawing widens into an oval: fingers dragging along his lower stomach, but skipping up to the lowest point of his sternum before they could tread over the waistband of Din’s trousers. “Yeah, you.” 

This was the closest the two had ever been since Din’s arrival at the ancient ziggurat. He shamefully recalls his pleas to Luke to let him stay. All he wanted was to be with the kid, and swore he’d make himself useful around the Temple. For the first few weeks, he hid behind his armor and avoided the Jedi Master, opting to help the other Jedi in charge with repairs and upgrades around the place. Somewhere in between then and now, the two men began to pass the time with innocent touches and training sessions. Din initially assumed that was just how Luke was, an affectionate person, but that childish fondness morphed into something deeper and more sincere.

Din realizes that the attraction to Luke was always there. Maybe not on the Imperial ship where they first met, but definitely more since he arrived. The attraction was smothered by embarrassment, and later resentment for his taking of the child. But once Din truly accepted that Grogu and his talents were flourishing on Yavin 4, he allowed himself to relax. Luke was something else, and he was great with the kid. A strong man- one of honor- who was trying to make things right again. The attraction mixed with admiration, and even a hint of envy.

A surge of confidence urges Din to kiss him, and he does. He rises on an elbow and cups the back of Luke’s neck, filling the space between them. Their lips meet again, this time with deeper intention. Luke’s dry but soft lips part, welcoming him in. Inexperience makes Din draw back a little, and he follows Luke’s more knowing lead. The Jedi’s tongue languidly traces Din’s upper lip, so he mimics the action with Luke’s bottom one. It’s an odd sensation, the tongue, but not an unwelcoming one.

The kiss fizzles out into brief pecks, and after a moment, they slowly separate to breathe each other’s air. Luke’s lips are red and wet, and his cheeks are flushed pink. Pretty, Din thinks. He goes forward to kiss him once again, but Luke evades him to trail his lips along the Mandalorian’s cheek. Fingers twist in the hair at the back of his head as Luke nips the base of his jaw. 

Sensation blooms from the site through every vein in his body. As though he senses Din’s thoughts- is that part of his Jedi powers?- Luke focuses his mouth where his teeth previously were: another nip, followed by a wet, sucking kiss. Din can hardly control his breaths anymore, twitching with each bite to his skin. 

“Is this okay?” Luke’s breath is hot against Din’s ear, and he wants to cry out a mantra of yes, please. 

Din doesn’t directly answer the question, but instead gruffly says, “Let me kiss you.” 

They crash together, likely a little harder than either of them expected, in a fit of tongue and teeth. All Din can think is closer, closer, as he flattens Luke against the stone, slotting his thigh in between Luke’s legs. He steadies himself above Luke before dropping his head to bite the Jedi’s cheek. A proper noise is drawn from Luke’s lips and his arms wrap around Din’s shoulders tightly. 

Din places impatient kisses along his jaw and straight down to his collar. His fingers hurriedly tug at Luke’s robe, pressing his nose and mouth against whatever skin he can. Luke spreads the neck of the robe open even wider, revealing most of his chest. But before he can do anything more, hands thread into Din’s hair and urge him back up. Their mouths meet again, both breathing hard against one another. An experimental thrust rolls once, and then twice, before Din finds a starting rhythm. 

It’s an awkward position, with him basically straddling Luke’s thigh and vice versa, so he pauses to worm his way fully in between the Jedi’s open legs.

Looking down at Luke leaves Din even harder than before. His lips are parted, flushed chest rising and falling with each deep breath. On his skin are pink bruises forming where Din sucked too hard, and his blue eyes are dark and expecting, gazing up at Din with desire. Stars, he’s never wanted to fuck anybody more in his life than he did Luke Skywalker. 

The sun beats down on Din’s back harshly, and he can feel the sweat begin to build up on his brow again. He sits back on his haunches and untucks his loose shirt, tugging it over his head. It gets thrown somewhere nearby- he doesn’t pay attention. He’s about to lower himself again when Luke holds a hand against his chest, stopping him. 

“Let me be on top,” Luke says with a breathy grin. Din knows better than to argue, and the heat building in his lower stomach doesn’t detest the idea. He rolls to the side to sit and Luke follows, settling square in the center of Din’s lap. They’re flush against one another, chest to chest. Luke doesn’t waste any time, picking up the pace Din had set out before.

Din didn’t expect things to come as far as they have. Luke Skywalker getting himself off on his lap wasn’t on his to-do list for the day, but here they are. Luke’s open shirt, the dazed, wanting expression- it’s all too much for him. All those nights Din spent gasping in his bed with his fist around his cock, thinking of Luke in this exact position- well, it’s almost too good to be true. 

Din locks an arm around Luke’s waist and pulls him even closer, feeling him writhe as Din grinds his hips upwards. Luke’s lips tremble against Din’s as he whines, rocking back and forth as best as he can with the restriction. His fingers come up to pull his dark hair, huffing against Din’s open mouth. 

“Please don’t stop,” Luke begs, losing himself in the rhythm of their hips. 

“I won’t,” Din assures. Every whimper and breath from Luke’s filthy mouth is laden with need, and all Din wants to do is swallow every noise he makes. He loosens his arm and moves to press his hand against the crevice of Luke’s clothed ass, relishing in the way he cries out. 

“Please- Din,” Luke sobs. His erection is hard against Din’s stomach as he grinds faster in his lap. The grip in his hair tightens even more, almost painfully, as Luke guides Din’s head back. He kisses the Mandalorian roughly, teeth tugging on his bottom lip. Luke tenses, gasping, “Ah, I’m-” 

Before he can finish his sentence, Din slots his mouth over his, muffling Luke’s shuddering climax. His thrusts quicken and the heat in his stomach grows hotter, soaking in Luke’s overstimulated protests. The hot sun and the smell of Luke become too much for him as his brow furrows. He tips over the edge, his mind going blank as he stifles a grunt. The warmth of his own cum spurts in his trousers, and he imagines that he’s deep inside of Luke, the two of them naked and gasping together, a sweaty tangle of limbs and sensation.

They breathe together wordlessly. Din looks up at Luke, embarrassment creeping up his neck. Luke is looking at him with an expression of something, but he can’t tell what. Din raises his head higher to kiss him, soft and sweet. Luke’s hands slide down Din’s chest and back up to cup the sides of his neck. When he pulls away, he’s smiling down at Din in a way that makes his heart flutter.

After a moment, Luke climbs off of Din and stands. He holds a hand out to him, and Din takes it, rising on buzzing legs. 

“Your robe is messed up,” Din says sarcastically. 

“Oh, really?” Luke chuckles. The Jedi adjusts his robe, tucking everything back into place. Din picks up his discarded shirt and dusts the pebbles off of it. He tugs it over his head and leaves it untucked. When he looks to Luke, he’s already holding his staff. “How do you feel about round nine?” 

Din knows he’s half-joking, but Skywalker totally could go again if he wanted to, and probably still kick his ass.

“You wish,” Din smiles. 

Sweat trickles down the back of his neck as he collects his spear from the ground, walking with Luke towards the Temple. Their shoulders bump a few times, and Din is filled with an emotion he’s never felt before. He wraps his arm around Luke and places a kiss to his head, breathing in the smell of his hair. The Jedi leans into the touch, and stars, Din feels like a different man. Since when did he become so soft? 

Most of all, Din can’t wait to wash the sweat off his back.


End file.
